


No Free Tacos

by ChaosRocket



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abridged-verse, Feefshipping, M/M, Romance, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosRocket/pseuds/ChaosRocket
Summary: Bakura gets Marik to agree to give him a kiss in exchange for tacos.Feefshipping because Marik’s birthday.
Relationships: Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	No Free Tacos

**Author's Note:**

> I just randomly got this idea and decided to quickly write it since it was Marik’s birthday. It’s not even betad.

“Bakooo-raa, why do we have to watch this?” Marik whined.

Bakura huffed. “It's my favorite Christmas movie, Marik.”

“You don't even like Christmas!” Marik crossed his arms over his chest.

“True,” Bakura agreed. “But I do like Gremlins.”

“Why can't we ever watch a comedy?” Marik asked.

“Gremlins _is_ a comedy.” 

“You know what I mean!” Marik cried.

“You should just be grateful I didn't choose the first Black Christmas remake as my holiday movie,” Bakura said.

“The first one?” Marik asked. 

“Well, the second remake was good.”

“Who frigging cares!” Marik yelled. “I want to watch Family Matters!” Marik gave Bakura a pouty look.

“Marik, I will never be able to fathom why you like those dumb 90s sitcoms.”

“Better than the dumb things you like!” Marik retorted.

Bakura narrowed his eyes. “This movie is a bloody _classic._ ”

“Classic, smashic,” Marik said. “We should watch something funnier. Plus, I'm hungry. I want tacos! You should go get some for us!”

Bakura sighed and picked up the remote, shutting off the movie. He couldn't even enjoy it with Marik's constant complaining. “Why should I be the one who has to go get food?” he asked.

“You know I gave the Steves the week off for the holidays,” Marik reminded him. 

“So when the Steves aren't available, I have to do their job?”

“Yup!” Marik said cheerfully.

“Ugh,” Bakura said, rolling his eyes. “Heat up some leftovers if you're hungry.”

“But I want _tacos,_ ” Marik insisted. 

A thought was starting to form in Bakura’s mind. He tried to push it away, knowing it was a terrible idea. But he found himself standing up and facing Marik, preparing to blurt it out.

He couldn't believe he was really going to do this. He knew he shouldn't. But he really couldn't stand it anymore. Marik was always just sitting there, with his golden hair and bright eyes and skimpy clothes showing off his toned form. Sometimes Bakura’s desire for him was so strong he felt like it would kill him if he weren't already technically dead.

And he realized he'd never exactly _asked_ before. His sexual innuendos always seemed to fly right over Marik’s dim blond head.

And really, the worst thing Marik could say was no. And if he was offended by the question—well, that was his own fault really, for doing things like talking about his yaoi comics and admitting to looking at sexy Thiefshipping fanart and saving it in a folder. Bakura really couldn't be blamed for thinking Marik was obviously gay and that he might have a chance with him. 

He reminded himself again that the worst thing Marik could say was no. 

“Okay, I'll go get us some tacos and then we can watch Family Matters…”

“Yes!” Marik cried.

“I wasn't finished!” Bakura put his hands on his hips. “I'll get the tacos and we can watch your stupid show… _if_ you give me something in return.”

“What do you want?” asked Marik. “Is it a Michael J Fox Bobblehead? Because I'm not sure if I can find one so close to the holiday…”

“No, Marik, it's not any kind of Bobblehead at all,” Bakura said with a sigh.

“Then what?”

Bakura took a deep breath and steeled himself. “A kiss,” he said simply.

“Bakura!” Marik looked scandalized. “You know I'm not gay!”

“But I am,” Bakura said. “You'd just be helping me out. And doing it in exchange for tacos. It wouldn't make you gay.”

“Are you really that hard up?” Marik asked. “I know you're not as sexy as me, but you don't look bad. I mean, not that I would know, since I'm not gay, but you have plenty of fangirls, so you must look alright. I'm sure there's a fan _boy_ out there somewhere who would want to kiss you.”

“It would only take a couple seconds,” Bakura argued. “Isn't that worth it for tacos and getting to watch your show? Otherwise, we're finishing my movie and you can microwave some of that old pizza in the refrigerator.” Bakura crossed his arms and gave a firm nod. 

Marik frowned at him, and was silent for several seconds.

“Well?” Bakura asked.

“I'm thinking.”

Bakura resisted the urge to make a comment that he wasn't aware Marik was capable of that. That would _not_ help his case.

So Bakura said nothing until finally Marik ventured, “Well, I do really want those tacos…”

Bakura's heart leaped in his chest. “Is that a yes?”

“Okay, fine, I guess,” Marik said. “But just one kiss! And this doesn't mean I'm gay! Oh, and also, no using your tongue!”

Bakura couldn't stop the smile that stole over his face. “Yes, yes, just one kiss. And it doesn't mean you're gay.”

“And no tongue!” Marik reminded him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakura said. “But you have to actually kiss back. I don't want to feel like I'm kissing a dead fish.”

Marik’s eyebrows drew together. “Wait, how would you know what that’s like? Have you actually kissed a dead fish? I really didn’t think you were _that_ desperate.”

“Obviously not!” Bakura yelled. “It’s just a metaphor!” Marik looked skeptical, but Bakura continued, “Look, it’s only fair if you put in some effort. I’m going to have to go all the way to the Mexican place and then suffer through your awful show. You’re getting a lot in exchange for only a few seconds’ work.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll kiss you back.” Bakura’s eyes lit up, but Marik went on, saying, “But you have to _promise_ me you’ll stick to just one kiss...with no tongue! Don’t try anything else!”

Bakura put his hand over his heart. “Marik, I swear.”

“Alright.” Marik eyed him warily.

Bakura had a bounce in his step as he walked back over to the couch. He sat down next to Marik and turned to face him, looping his arms around his neck.

“Put your arms around me,” Bakura commanded. Marik had certainly hugged him before, so Bakura didn’t think doing that would be a problem for Marik.

Marik tentatively put his arms around Bakura’s waist. 

Then Bakura slid a hand up to cup Marik’s face. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

Surprisingly, Marik obeyed, and Bakura’s heart sped up as he closed his own eyes and tilted his head.

* * *

Bakura leaned in and pressed their lips together, and Marik froze in shock. Not because of the kiss; he’d expected that, even if his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see it coming. It was the _way_ Bakura was kissing him that shocked him into stillness.

He knew Bakura was mad with lust for him. That was obvious from the ridiculous, incessant perverted comments from Bakura that never stopped no matter how much Marik staunchly ignored them. Sometimes it seemed there wasn’t a moment when Bakura's mind wasn’t filled with dirty thoughts about Marik.

Not that Marik blamed him! Literally anyone would be stupid with horniness for Marik considering his amazing abs, his perfect bottom, his unbelievably excellent fashion sense...it was simply the burden you carried when you were cursed with being as sexy as Marik was.

But the point was, he’d expected Bakura to pretty much attack his face and slobber all over him. He’d imagined it would be kind of gross, actually—like sticking your face in a bowl of Cra-Z-Art brand slime, which Marik had actually done once just to see what it would feel like (the answer was: not good.) 

So he’d assumed the kiss would be unpleasant and overly sexual, that Bakura would be rough and aggressive and that getting the tacos in exchange would just barely be worth it. Honestly, he’d thought the kiss would ultimately end when Bakura broke his promise and tried to jam his tongue down Marik’s throat and Marik had to shove him away.

But it wasn’t anything like that. Bakura was being...well... _tender._ It seemed strange to think of that word in relation to Bakura of all people, but that was exactly what it was. Bakura’s kiss was almost infinitely _tender_ , and sweet, and slow, so slow. Marik was being kissed softly, lightly, gently. Almost delicately. Like he was precious. He could feel Bakura’s fingers trembling against his cheek. 

Marik suddenly remembered his promise to kiss back and forced himself to break out of his paralysis. He experimentally moved his lips against Bakura’s, and a tiny, broken little noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh came from Bakura. 

Something about hearing that noise made Marik’s stomach drop. It felt just like it did that one time when they were at the fair and he begged and begged until Bakura agreed to go on the Wild Mouse with him and the ride made his stomach do flip-flops when their car shot down the first big hill. And just like he’d done that day as the coaster roared down the hill, he tightened his arms around Bakura. 

Letting himself follow his instincts, Marik pressed his face in closer and deepened the kiss. Bakura moaned softly against his lips, the sound seeming to vibrate from somewhere deep inside him. 

It was no longer just Bakura’s fingers that were trembling. Marik tightened his arms around him further, as if to steady him. 

* * *

Bakura lingered over the kiss, savoring it. But eventually he couldn’t move his lips any more without it turning into a second kiss, and he’d promised not to do that. So he stilled himself. And then it soon got to the point where sitting there with their lips frozen against each other, unmoving, was starting to seem awkward.

He was surprised Marik hadn’t broken the kiss himself yet, but maybe he didn’t want Bakura to be able to say he hadn’t fully held up his end of the bargain. But he’d done more than enough for Bakura, more than Bakura had dared to hope for.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Marik, but he knew he had to. So he took another second to drink in the moment, committing every detail to memory. Then he very softly closed his lips around Marik’s and finally pulled back. As they separated, a quiet but embarrassing whimper of need, born of overwhelming emotion, escaped Bakura. Even to his own ears, he sounded utterly broken. Pathetic. 

He felt hot all over, flushed. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

But he couldn’t quite bring himself to move away from Marik entirely; not just yet. 

“I promise I won’t try to kiss you again,” he assured Marik quickly. He was so emotionally keyed up and nervous he was talking too fast, almost babbling. The fact that a single kiss had reduced him to this made him want to go take Marik’s stupid pink car and drive it off a cliff. He forced himself to slow down. “But c-can I—can we—just s-stay like this for a little bit? Just—just for a minute.” He felt like an absolute idiot, but he needed it too much right then to stop himself from asking. 

“Of...of course,” Marik said, sounding dazed. Not that it was anything new for Marik to sound spaced out. 

Bakura let out a relieved huff of breath at the answer and moved to lay his head on Marik’s shoulder. Surprisingly, Marik pulled him closer, so their chests were pressed together. Bakura sighed softly and moved his hands to the exposed small of Marik’s back, needing skin. He closed his eyes, breathing in Marik’s scent, basking in his warmth. And he let himself relax in Marik’s arms and just _feel._

* * *

Marik could feel Bakura’s heart thumping against his chest. It sounded like it was about to pound out of his rib cage. 

“I’m sorry,” Marik said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

Bakura’s chest hitched a bit, and Marik felt the need to mimic the motion of Bakura’s hands, sliding them a bit under Bakura’s T-shirt and rubbing his lower back to comfort him. 

Bakura shivered and sighed, so affected by that simple touch, and Marik wondered how strongly he would react if he threw him onto his back on the couch and kissed him senseless, how crazy Bakura would go if he very slowly removed each article of his clothing, kissing the exposed skin as he went…

But no. He couldn’t act out a yaoi comic with Bakura just because Bakura wanted him in the way he did. It was nice to feel needed, but that wasn’t a reason to _do it_ with someone. 

Besides, he wasn’t even gay! Plus, Bakura was his best friend. And his partner in crime! They needed each other to defeat Yugi. If they started doing sex stuff it could get all weird. 

Bakura suddenly leapt away from Marik like he was on fire and quickly stood up.

“I'm going to go get the tacos!” Bakura said, talking too loudly, almost tripping over his words. Then he was out the door before Marik could even say anything, and Marik was left alone with his thoughts.

And Marik hated being alone with his thoughts. He preferred constant distractions. Bakura was great for distracting him. Marik could always come up with lots of fun things to do and talk about when Bakura was there! But when Bakura wasn't around, it always seemed the only thing he could think about was Bakura. This was annoying, because at the moment, thoughts of Bakura were exactly the thoughts he needed to be distracted from. 

He was already worrying about how he was going to handle things that night, what he was going to do.

Sure, first they’d eat the tacos and watch his show—Bakura was truly a foolish fool if he couldn’t see how funny Steve Urkel was!

But after that…

The thing was that sometimes Marik had awful nightmares, and then he’d feel too disturbed and upset to sleep alone. Things like that were exactly why he liked having Bakura around all the time to distract him! So on those nights he’d go and crawl into bed with Bakura. Bakura would complain and act put out, but he’d always gather Marik into his arms and let him curl up next to him, and he’d pet Marik to comfort him, and he’d even turn the light on for Marik so he could sleep better.

But he didn’t only sneak into Bakura’s room when he had a nightmare. Every time Bakura made him watch a horror movie, he’d always jump into bed with him that night, saying he was too scared to sleep by himself. Of course he wasn’t really scared of the silly movies—the movies that sometimes played in his head when he was sleeping in bed alone in the tomb were a million times worse.

But he sort of liked being able to cuddle up to Bakura when he _wasn’t_ terrified and distressed and consumed with thoughts of his past, so that he could actually enjoy being close and warm and falling asleep to the sound of Bakura breathing as Bakura’s hands carded through his hair. So he used the horror movies as an excuse. It wasn’t gay! Friends could hug and cuddle! Sometimes siblings slept in the same bed with each other! 

He knew he was teasing Bakura by sleeping next to him like that. Sometimes he could even feel Bakura get hard _down there_ when they were pressed up against each other in bed that way.

Before he’d thought it was funny, but now he wondered if it was cruel, if he was leading Bakura on. Because it was obvious now that it wasn’t just that Bakura wanted Marik to bang him. It was something more than that.

The immediate problem was that they’d already watched half a horror movie that evening. So he knew Bakura would expect him in his room that night. Really, he was pretty sure half the reason Bakura insisted on watching those scary movies with him was because he _wanted_ Marik to come and get in bed with him, even if sleeping next to each other might be a bit frustrating for Bakura.

But now he really didn’t know if it was appropriate to be jumping into bed with Bakura, knowing how he felt. He didn’t want to be insensitive to his feelings. 

On the other hand, Bakura might be offended—hurt, really—if Marik suddenly didn’t come to his bed when he always had before. It might come off like Marik had become disgusted with him, as if he were repelled by Bakura’s feelings.

Going to Bakura’s room, staying away—he really didn’t know which one would hurt Bakura more.

He felt strangely nervous, and also guilty for a reason he couldn’t quite define, and it was making his stomach feel funny—but in a bad way, like when he ate way too many tacos, not in a good way like when they went on the roller coaster together or when Bakura was making those little noises of pleasure while kissing him.

Things were so complicated now! It was so much easier when he’d just thought Bakura simply wanted him for his sexy body the same way anyone obviously would.

But he didn’t have time to think more about it before Bakura stormed in with the tacos. 

Bakura chucked the tacos into the microwave, because the Mexican place was pretty far away and the food was always already getting cold by the time it made it back to their hideout. While he was doing that, Marik put on his show. 

Bakura didn’t even say a word to him as he handed him his plate, and then he curled up on his end of the couch, as far away from Marik as possible. He also didn’t laugh even a single time during the entire episode, though that at least was normal for grumpy old Bakura. Marik was used to Bakura being a wet blanket and didn’t let it stop him from braying with laughter at the antics of Urkel and the Winslows. Though when he would laugh, he did catch Bakura stealing glances at him with a small smile on his face, and he suddenly realized how often Bakura did that and wondered why he’d never really noticed before. 

When the episode was over, Bakura collected their plates. But he was gone for a while, longer than it would take for him to just go to the kitchen area and throw the dishes in the sink, and then Marik heard a distant crash. 

“Did you break something?” Marik asked when Bakura got back.

“I went back up to the surface and threw the plates out of the entrance.” Bakura shrugged. “I didn’t feel like doing dishes.”

“Good thinking!”

Then there was an awkward silence between them, which was weird because normally things were never awkward between them. Things usually weren’t silent when they were together, either; Marik hated silence and always made an effort to fill it.

“You know…” Marik hesitated. “If you want, we can finish watching your movie before bed. We already watched like half of it, and now I’m sort of curious to see what happens. And I guess Gizmo _is_ kind of funny.”

Marik waited to see how Bakura would respond. If he said no, then that might be the answer to the problem Marik was considering earlier. 

But Bakura smiled and said, “Sure. Thanks.”

So they watched the rest of the movie. Marik didn’t complain about it, and Bakura was strangely silent. He seemed tense, even for him. After the movie was over, they went to the bathroom to brush their teeth, jostling for position in front of the sink like they always did, and that made Marik feel a little more normal. Then they went their separate ways, Marik going to his creepy old room from his childhood that he hated and Bakura heading off to the room he slept in. 

Marik changed into his night clothes, which consisted of a sleeveless shirt and a pair of booty shorts with _hot stuff_ written on the rear. Bakura wasn’t nearly as fashionable as him with his night wear; he always just stripped off his jeans and wore the same boxers and tee he’d been wearing that day.

Marik waited about half an hour before getting out of bed and sneaking into Bakura’s room. He breathed a little sigh of relief when he saw that Bakura had set a few of Marik’s glow-in-the-dark dinosaur toys on the end table next to his bed. Bakura really preferred to sleep in full darkness, but he always made sure there was some small bit of light in his room at night. For Marik. So that Marik wouldn’t have to navigate a scary, pitch black room if he happened to show up and want to get in bed with Bakura. 

Marik choked on his breath for a second. Before now, he’d really never thought much about Bakura doing those kinds of things for him. It was just the sort of thing Bakura always did. 

But he’d done it again that night, so it meant Marik wasn’t unwelcome. 

Normally Marik would burst into Bakura’s room yelling, but this time he silently padded over and slipped into bed with Bakura. Bakura wasn’t asleep. He immediately reached over Marik to turn on the bedside lamp and then pulled Marik close to him.

Marik wound his body around Bakura’s. 

“Nightmare?” Bakura asked.

“No,” Marik admitted, but then he wanted to smack himself in the forehead for his honesty. He didn’t know why he’d said that.

Bakura’s breath picked up, and he clung tighter to Marik. 

Marik didn’t really mean to, but he pressed his lips against Bakura’s neck, and it drew a gasp from him.

“Marik…”

“That was an accident.”

Bakura let out a slow breath as a shiver ran through him.

The thought Marik had earlier reoccurred to him, and again he imagined pushing Bakura onto his back and lifting up his shirt a bit to kiss his stomach, very slowly pushing the cloth higher, ghosting his lips against the pale skin as he revealed it, and the way Bakura would quiver and squeak and say Marik’s name…

But he definitely was not going to do that! 

Bakura was petting his hair like he normally did when they slept together, and it was nice, so Marik closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to Bakura’s breathing until he fell asleep.

* * *

When Bakura awoke the next morning, Marik was still in his arms. He took a few moments to enjoy the closeness and watch Marik’s sleeping face. But it didn't last long before Marik’s eyes suddenly popped open.

“Bakura!” Marik yelled, sitting up quickly. Marik was always instantly fully awake the moment he woke up. Bakura didn't understand how he did it. He himself was not a morning person.

Bakura clutched onto Marik, pulling him back down onto the bed. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled.

Marik let himself be pulled down, but he said, “But Bakura, I just had the most amazing dream!”

Bakura looked at him hopefully. “Yeah? Was I in it?”

“Of course!” Marik said. “I dreamed of the perfect way to finally defeat Yugi Moto, so obviously you were there helping me as my loyal sidekick!”

Bakura let out a world-weary sigh. “Marik, it's too bloody early in the morning to think about Yugi.”

“I know you're always a grumpy sleepyhead in the morning, but this is too important to ignore! I have to tell you what my dream was before I forget it!”

Bakura sighed again. There was no point in arguing with Marik when he was like this. At least Marik hadn't struggled out of his embrace yet, like he normally did first thing in the morning on the occasions they spent the night in the same bed. “Alright, Marik. Tell me what it is.”

“I dreamed we stole all of Yugi’s shampoo bottles, poured the shampoo out and replaced it with glue! His hair still looked exactly the same, but the smell of the glue drove him crazy!”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “Marik, that is beyond stupid.”

Marik scoffed. “It's brilliant! You're just jealous you never come up with such amazing evil plans!”

Bakura ran a hand roughly through his own hair in frustration. “Fine. I'm too tired to even argue about this.” 

“Great!” Marik gave him a beaming smile, which softened Bakura a bit. “So we're doing my plan?”

“Yes, fine, we’ll do it...if you let me sleep a little longer.” Bakura closed his eyes firmly, and tightened his grip on Marik.

“You know, this kind of lazy attitude is probably why we keep losing against Yugi.” Marik pointedly gave a light tug to one of Bakura's bat wings.

“Villains need to be well-rested to be effective,” Bakura tried. 

“Well...I suppose beauty sleep is important,” Marik conceded. He took Bakura's chin in his hand and examined his face. “And you do look like you need it! Now me, on the other hand...I always look beautiful!”

“Indeed you do,” Bakura said without thinking, and then felt a blush color his cheeks.

Marik actually looked stunned, and Bakura took the opportunity to lean in and place a quick kiss on Marik’s neck, the way Marik had done to him the night before. He wouldn't have normally been so bold, but...Marik was acting different ever since they kissed the previous day. Just a little. It couldn't hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

And Marik actually settled down, snuggling closer to him. 

* * *

Marik felt his heart thrumming in his chest, but he didn't know why. It wasn't like he hadn't cuddled up to Bakura in bed lots of times before. Things shouldn't be different now. He didn't _want_ things to be different. What they'd been doing so far had been working fine for years. What if things changed and then everything got all messed up?

But before he could even stop himself, he copied Bakura's action and placed a kiss on Bakura's neck, the same as he'd done the night before.

Bakura sighed, a happy sigh, like that one little kiss had given him more joy than anything, and Marik felt his heart seize up. 

But he couldn’t do sexy things with Bakura just to make him happy! It was just that Bakura’s crazily intense reactions to him made him feel funny in his stomach and his chest and even his—

“May I kiss you?” Bakura whispered, the desire so thick in his voice he nearly sounded like he was choking.

Something about that _may I_ made Marik’s heart twist even more. Over the last day, he felt like he was suddenly seeing a side of Bakura he’d never really suspected. Frig, he hadn’t known Bakura could be sweet...or gentle...or _happy._ Even though he should have seen the hints of those things all along. He understood now Bakura had always shown signs of being those things. For him. Only for him. 

Bakura’s fingers traveled over his arms, his thighs, his lower back, caressing him with infinite tenderness. 

“Aren’t you—uh—supposed to give me something in return?” Marik asked. Somehow, that answer seemed safest.

“Anything, anything,” Bakura sighed.

And oh, hell, there was no way he could deny Bakura when he kept acting like _that._

“Well—uh—you have to—" Marik paused a moment to think. “You have to _promise_ to never again make fun of my brilliant evil plans! And admit how brilliant they are!”

Bakura chuckled softly and pulled back to look at Marik. He reached up to brush a lock of hair out of Marik’s face, gazing at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. Then he smiled and closed his eyes, looking so content, and hummed, “Hmm, never again? That’s asking a lot. I think I deserve more than one kiss for that.”

Marik couldn't even think when Bakura looked at him like that. “O-o-kay,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm.

Bakura kissed him then, and it was just like before, soft and gentle and lingering. One kiss turned into two, and then more, Bakura sighing all the time, until Marik got lost in what they were doing together and started to forget why he’d ever been so resistant to this. 

Marik parted his lips, just a bit, hoping Bakura would take the invitation. But he didn’t, even when Marik opened his mouth again, a bit wider this time. Of course, Marik had admonished Bakura so much before insisting he not use his tongue. 

But now Marik wanted more, deeper, closer. 

Finally he pulled back and said, “You know, if-if you—let me choose the movie tonight you could—you could use your tongue.”

Bakura sucked in breath and then gave a little nod, sighing softly as his eyes fell closed again. 

Marik would never admit it to Bakura, but he’d never actually kissed with tongues before. Even though there were plenty of beautiful women who wanted to, and of course he totally wanted to kiss them too! It just sort of hadn’t happened yet. 

So he wasn’t sure if he would like it. But it actually wasn’t all slobbery like he was worried it would be. Bakura just barely dipped his tongue into his mouth, and then he did it again, over and over, and it was as delicate and reverent as his other touches and kisses.

Marik tried using his tongue too. Bakura was making those soft little sounds of pleasure that drove Marik absolutely crazy, moaning quietly and humming in contentment as his hands brushed over Marik’s skin where it was exposed. They kissed, and kissed, and Bakura whispered his name, and Marik felt like he was burning up inside. 

Then Marik couldn't take it anymore and pushed Bakura over onto his back. 

And he finally did what he’d been imagining since the day before and began to lift Bakura’s shirt up, but very gradually, placing soft kisses up Bakura’s taut stomach as he went, and then over his pale chest. 

It drove Bakura as wild as he’d thought it would. Bakura was shaking like a leaf underneath him, whimpering almost pathetically, his breath catching every little bit. It was like he was falling apart beneath Marik's hands.

When Marik finally had Bakura's shirt all the way off he sat up. He was sitting on Bakura’s hips and could feel how hard he was. Marik’s own shorts were feeling a bit tight, and it definitely didn’t mean he was gay, but maybe Bakura was just...an exception. 

Marik slowly drew a single finger over the bulge in Bakura's boxers. Bakura stared up at him, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. He looked like his brain had completely short circuited. He was panting already, his breath coming too quickly. Marik had hardly touched him and he was nearly hyperventilating. 

“Do you want me to take care of this for you?” Marik asked, voice low.

“Yes, please, please, yes,” Bakura panted.

Frigging _frig,_ Marik could not get enough of Bakura’s reactions to him. 

Bakura was gazing up at him like he was a god. Marik very lightly brushed his fingertips over Bakura’s erection, and Bakura let out a loud, helpless cry. So he did it again, and again. He was barely touching him but Bakura was shivering all over, his hips twitching uncontrollably, his hair damp with sweat, his eyes wild. He was absolutely throbbing under Marik's fingers, needy yelps escaping him.

Desperate. He was desperate.

“Oh, frig, Bakura,” Marik breathed.

“Marik,” Bakura pleaded, and it was almost a wail.

“Yeah?” Marik asked quietly. “You know I need something in return, then.”

Bakura nodded enthusiastically, seeming to have lost the ability to speak. 

Marik stopped touching Bakura, giving him a moment to calm down. Then he reached down and gripped Bakura by his hair, gently but firmly, and looked him in the eyes. “Tell me how you really feel about me.” 

Bakura tried to look away, a blush coloring his cheeks. “You already know.”

“But I want to hear it,” Marik insisted, holding Bakura's gaze, not letting him turn away.

Bakura swallowed. “You're my...my best friend...I c-c-care...care about you more than—more than—”

“More than what?”

Bakura hesitated for several seconds. Marik could see his cheeks were on fire. 

“Bakura.”

Bakura bit his lip, looking pained. Marik continued to stare at him. Then Bakura finally burst out, “You're the only thing on this gods forsaken planet that's ever made me happy!”

Marik gave him a soft smile, satisfied. “I love you too, Bakura.” 

He hadn’t realized it was true until he’d said it. But his words made Bakura moan, low and passionate. It sounded like relief, like ecstasy. 

Marik's heart felt like it was bursting, and he kissed Bakura again. Then his hands were searching Bakura's body and before he knew it, he'd finished undressing him.

He didn't really know what he was going to do until he did it, but then he dropped his head down and took Bakura into his mouth, choking a little because he went too fast and he didn't really know how to do this. 

But it didn't seem to matter how clumsy and inexperienced he was. Bakura was practically screaming, calling out Marik’s name again and again, driven completely out of his mind by what Marik was giving him. 

* * *

Bakura came so hard he was pretty sure it killed him—a third time? A fourth time? It was too hard to keep track at the moment of how many times he'd already died. 

He took a minute to collect himself, and then he started relieving Marik of his clothes. He wanted to take his time, to enjoy it, but Marik was staring up at him with lidded eyes and parted lips and everything in his countenance was saying _hurry._

So Bakura stripped off his sleeveless tee, and then his tight little shorts, the sight of which had driven him crazy so many times, and then he gave back to Marik what Marik had given to him. 

As he sucked, Marik started making quiet, appreciative noises, which quickly got louder and louder, and soon reached a crescendo as he came. Bakura swallowed everything and hummed in contentment.

It hadn't lasted as long as Bakura would have liked, but he hoped he'd have a lot more opportunities to do it again in the future.

Afterwards, Marik gazed at Bakura with hooded eyes, looking satisfied and relaxed.

Bakura felt calmer than he could ever remember being. Not just calm. Happy. He was happy.

He gathered Marik into his arms and pulled him close, and Marik snuggled up to him. Bakura took Marik’s hand in his and laced their fingers together.

After several moments of companionable silence, Bakura quickly glanced at Marik, then away, and said, “I...umm…”

“Hm?” Marik smiled at him, his fingers threading through his hair, playing with his bat wings. Marik suddenly leaned over and gave him a quick, affectionate kiss on his forehead, and Bakura's heart fluttered.

Bakura coughed, stalling. Then he finally said, “I...I-I do, you know. I do. What you said earlier.” 

Marik gave him a soft smile as he ran a finger along Bakura's burning cheek. “I know,” Marik whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> They lived happily ever after.
> 
> I actually liked the first Black Christmas remake! It’s just not nearly as good as the second remake, and not as good as the original. You should really watch all three.


End file.
